Myfrenchkitchen

Summer delivers an abundance of wonderful moments. One such a moment is enjoying a cake or tart with tea late afternoon. Outside, under the walnut tree. There was a time that I baked a cake or tart every Friday afternoon for the weekend. Everybody was very impressed with this tradition, believing it would never end, but as the girls grew older and finally left home, so did the cake and tarts on Friday leave too. A pity. Change isn’t always a good thing, I say. Now everybody has to wait for a whim on my side to have a cake on Friday. Yesterday was a whim day. Unfortunately I’m alone at home and me alone with cake is bad news for the hips. So I called a friend this morning. “Come pick up a whim cake“, I said… “You may never get this lucky again“..

Suggestions:

Use freshly squeezed orange juice instead of lemon juice.
Add some grated lemon/orange rind to the mixture.
Top with some icing sugar of your choice, or serve without. I prefer without, since icing sugar makes it too sweet for me.
Decorate with fresh edible flowers.
The cake is even more flavorful the next day.
Use for dessert: break into pieces and serve, topped with strawberries, whipped cream and a berry coulis, OR serve with warm caramelized peaches and crème frâiche.

We all have stories to tell. Our own stories. The ones we are living each day. Stories with all the seasonings that make for a good read. It has sadness and happiness, heroes and villains. It has drama and suspense and it unfolds into unforeseen endings. We write “The end”, sign our name and start a new story.

We write on instinct, improvise while waiting for life to dictate the next chapter, to channel our decisions and choices. Sometimes we plan ahead and witness as it changes and adapts on the page, perhaps taking a direction better than we originally envisioned. Sometimes writers’ block gets in the way – we stop and get trapped in I- don’t- know- how-to-live. Those are the times we need to let go and allow life to formulate its own phrases. And every so often we get mixed up and confused with which story we are living and the past and future become the present.

Our life manuscripts are raw, unedited, original. Often unfinished, with no ending. In a time where authors don’t write “The End” anymore, the door is always open to the sequel. We chew over our own lives. We brood over the last page which leaves only questions and an uncertainty about where the story is heading…can it continue to an end which all mankind is looking for; happiness…. contentment…a reassurance that all is well…that all will be well with our lives tomorrow…?

And so we continue writing because we exist. In search of recognition. Because we want to live a bestseller. And our bookshelves become filled with rows and rows of drafts and manuscripts, fresh starts and sequels…completed works; our stories…and somewhere in one of them will be an ending that assures us that all will be well. It will be our bestseller.

…the end..

I’ve been here at Coin Perdu for the last few weeks, only made a quick stop back at our Loire home in Montlouis. When working here, there is no time for making interesting meals. We are too tired in the evening. But it is just great when we can call it a day at around 18:00, light the fire and sit back with a glass of red wine, a small bowl of sliced sauccisson and as I said so many times already, watch the sun set. The cats play around us in the long grass, the chicks fiddle around and under my chair and life is just perfect at that hour. Then we’ll put something on the BBQ and make a salad like the one you see here. Because I serve my vinaigrette on the side, the salad is still fresh enough the next day for lunch with some crusty bread, freshly baked and bought from our local boulangerie. So, although I don’t have anything exciting to offer in terms of an inventive recipe, I do hope you get inspired to sit back with a glass of good red wine at a your secret corner where the sunset brings you inspiration and sighs of satisfaction.

This salad is simply a mixture of fresh salad leaves, a handful of dried goji berries, a grated carrot, a handful of sprouted red cabbage sprouts(from my own kitchen and which I’ll write about soon, as previously promised) and some dry roasted almonds. A drizzling of lemon juice with lemon slices added to the salad, some olive oil and and a sprinkling of salt and milled pepper rounds off this salad. the next day I add some smoked salmon, or some smoked ham or pancetta or even tuna or smoked mackerel to give it more substance. Enjoy it with tomatoes on the vine(served separately, I don’t like tomatoes in a green salad, but of course you can add it to your salad) . I enjoy picking the tomatoes off the vine and popping them in my mouth. Much like you would strawberries for dessert!

My chicks, Petronella and Stephanie have already worked their way firmly into a corner of my heart! They are nothing exotic, only ordinary petites roussettes, but they are absolutely adorable! Along with Tokala and Ayiani, they travel to and fro with us in their chateau(a bigger one by now!)

…in their “chateau“, enjoying freedom and giving us the full monty…

…sketching them takes quick looking and fiddleless lines…

We all have our special little corners. Those in our heads; the ones that can be our refuge and prison at the same time. But we also have those corners around us, which we run to for some quiet time. Alone time. A place where we can think and dream and imagine. A place where we can be sad or happy. A place which we decide to share or keep to ourselves. A little bench with a view, or in the park, a rock by the shore, a tree stump in the forest. A chair by the window. On the rim of a fountain.

I have mine too. Several. Corners I run to where I can come to a standstill, find the calmness inside me, search for directions or answers. I have such a corner at Coin Perdu, our mountain home in Correze. A bench with a view. I share it with Hartman. Sometimes I sit and dream silently. I start my early morning there and I end my day there. In the morning it wakens my spirit and in the evening it soothes my soul.

In Montlouis I have a few places I call my secret corners. In my garden. A nook where the first morning rays hit the old stable wall. I have the cats for company. A cup of coffee. We talk and plan the day. I scratch their bellies and they give me loving purs. This secret garden corner I share happily with Tokala and Ayiani. We greet our welcome to the day.

Then there is the Loire. Beautiful corners to share. Or be alone. Different choices on different days. All special. All familiar. My favorite is just a short walk from the house. Short enough so my cup of coffee doesn’t get cold from a far walk. I see people strolling, wagging tailed dogs, children throwing pebbles in the river, I see my gate, logs floating by in the river, geese taking a rest in the shade of overhanging trees, I see Hartman approaching in search of me. It is a place where I feel the harmony between nature and man.

My silent corner is in the eglise of Montlouis. Up on the hill. Where the doors are always open, free for anyone to enter. I tread softly when I enter, not disturb the silence. The silence of the peaceful interior and the silence of my own mood. This is a place I stop frequently when I walk uphill to the market, or to the boulangerie or just because I need to go to my secret corner. This is where I want to be alone. Quiet. I find calm in the light that plays through the stained glass windows. The statues and pillars that observe unobtrusively. The cold of the old stone that makes me sensitive to emotions and feelings. I feel sad and happy. . I light a candle for all my gratitude and memories.